“Many times.”
“And the Venerable Bede?”
“I can quote parts of Historia Ecclesiastica verbatim.”
“I wish that all soldiers exchanged the sword for the written word quite so readily,” said Hubert with a meaningful glance at Ralph Delchard up ahead of him. “But some, I fear, are beyond recall.” He turned to look shrewdly at Tanchelm. “May I ask what your appointed role is, my lord?”
“To lend what assistance I may.”
“Yes, but in what capacity?”
“The King advises me that I sit in commission as an equal partner with you but I realise that that would be an act of gross presumption on my part.”
“Presumption?”
“You are all experienced,” said Tanchelm respectfully, “while I am a mere novice. You have sat in judgement before; I have little knowledge of legal matters. I have so much to learn, Canon Hubert, but I am a willing pupil. I have that in my favour. Be patient with me and I will soon grow to be of some practical use to you.”
“I am sure that you will, my lord.”
“In the meantime, overlook my folly and pardon my ignorance. Have no fear that I will challenge your decisions. I defer to you and the others at all times.”
“That is very reassuring.”
“My presence may lend additional weight to the commission but I cannot promise that my voice will supply any illumination. I am content to be guided by wiser heads.”
Canon Hubert was delighted to hear these remarks and he questioned Tanchelm closely to make sure that the sentiments he was expressing were genuine and not simply a means of ingratiating himself. Prompt with his answers, their new colleague seemed quite sincere. His soft-spoken manner endeared him to Hubert, who spent much of his time battling with the blunt and assertive Ralph Delchard.
It was refreshing to meet a soldier who did not treat an argument as an excuse for a verbal cavalry charge. The canon began to see Tanchelm as a potential ally against the nominal leader of the commission. Only one more query needed to be raised.
“Why do you think that you were chosen for this work?”
Tanchelm gave a wry smile. “You must ask that of the King himself, for he did the choosing.”
“You must have some idea why his eye settled on you.”
“I have done him good service in the past.”
“As a paid soldier.”
“Yes,” conceded the other easily. “I do not deny that I fought for money. It is a more tangible reward than honour. My wealth enabled me to buy the time to educate myself, so I feel that the end more than justified the means. But I have not only been employed on the battle-field, Canon Hubert.”
“Oh?”
“I speak five languages. A legacy of having lived and fought in a number of countries. The King has seen fit to use me, in a small way, as a kind of ambassador.” He gave a shrug. “I can only think that my mean skills in foreign courts recommended me for this assignment.
Beyond that, my sole qualification is the one that we all share.”
“And what is that?”
“We are outsiders,” said Tanchelm. “None of us was born or brought up in Yorkshire. We have no personal interest in the county that could blur our perception or sway our judgement. That is vital.”
“Impartiality is our touchstone.”
“Even so.”
Hubert inhaled deeply. “Let me tell you why I was selected to assist in the compilation of this Great Survey.…”
Modesty had never gained more than the most superficial purchase on Canon Hubert and, as a result, his crushing self-importance went largely unchecked. He trumpeted his virtues for a mile or more without the slightest sense of his own vanity. Tanchelm showed remarkable patience and forbearance. Hubert warmed to him even more.
When they stopped to take refreshment, Tanchelm strode across to join Ralph Delchard and Golde. Locked together in their own private world, they had ridden at the head of the column and set a steady pace. It was now time to relax and to mix with their fellow travellers. They gave Tanchelm a smile of welcome.
“What do you think of Lincolnshire?” he said.
“It has much to commend it,” replied Golde.
“No,” said Ralph, shaking his head. “The county is too flat and too featureless for my liking. All this undrained fenland. The place is virtually a peninsula. Why on earth did you choose to live here?”
“I like it,” said Tanchelm. “More to the point, so does my wife. She would not live anywhere else.”
“Why not?” wondered Golde.
“She was born here.”
“You wife is a Saxon?”
“No, my lady. She comes of Viking stock. We are standing at the very heart of the old Danelaw. Look at the names of the places around here, listen to the speech of the people. The Danes left heavy footprints in this county.”
“I’m surprised they did not sink up to their waists in water,” said Ralph. “I do not like wet terrain. It makes me feel seasick.”
They chatted happily until they were ready to mount and move on.
Ralph and Golde again led the way but Tanchelm now took up a position at the end of the cavalcade. Gervase Bret and Brother Simon were absorbed in earnest discussion. He nudged his horse gently between them.
“Do I intrude?” he said.
“Not at all, my lord,” said Gervase. “Ride with us.”
“I would hate to interrupt a private conversation.”
“It was more of a friendly debate, one that Brother Simon and I have been having for some time.”
“May I know its substance?”
“The Benedictine rule.”
“A worthy subject for argument.”
“I was destined for the cowl myself at one point but I drew back from taking my vows. Brother Simon has just been reminding me of some of the rewards of monastic life.”
“They are beyond my reach, alas.”
He turned to Simon with a half-smile of regret but the monk was far too timorous to make any comment. The presence of Tanchelm and his men-at-arms was reassuring at one level but it was also overwhelming.
Brother Simon was travelling in the company of over thirty people, yet there were only two of them-Canon Hubert and Gervase Bret-with whom he had anything in common. He felt lost and vulnerable.
Seeing his profound discomfort, Gervase tried to steer the conversation away from the hapless monk.
“We are pleased to have you with us, my lord,” he said.
“It is an honour to sit in commission with you.”
“That is an opinion you may care to revise when you have spent endless days in a draughty shire hall, listening to property disputes. It can be tedious work.”
“The boredom is not unrelieved,” said Tanchelm. “From what I hear, your investigations have a habit of throwing up a certain amount of excitement.”
“Unhappily, yes.”
“You have something of a reputation.”
“Who told you that, my lord?”
“I have many friends in Winchester. In any case, it was implicit in the orders that I received from the King himself.”
Gervase was astonished. “King William spoke of us?”
“Yes,” said Tanchelm. “By name. He holds you in high regard. Why else should he choose to send you to Yorkshire? There are other teams of commissioners dispersed throughout other counties to look into ques-tionable claims sent into the Exchequer. Yet they were not singled out for the long journey to York. That reward fell to you.”
“It could also be seen as a punishment.”
“The King trusts you, Master Bret. He has always been able to recognise able lieutenants. That is how I know that Ralph Delchard, Canon Hubert, Brother Simon here and your good self must be a formidable team.” He gave Gervase a smile of admiration. “I repeat. It is an honour to join you.”
Ermine Street, the great highway between London and York, showed scant respect for any variations in contour. It arrowed its way north with Roman straightness and dealt with obstacles in its path by cutting through them. They were able to make steady progress before spending the night at a small village in the north of the county.